Cut the Curtains
by harlequincabaret
Summary: Mara is a woman living a lie-she's Muggleborn-a Mudblood.  Yet when she was sorted into Slytherin, she threw that away.  She considered that part of her dead.  When she meets the alluring Scabior, will she be able to hide her true self from a Snatcher?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I don't know how often I'll update this, but I just wanted to get it posted **

I remembered. That first, fleeting glance he gave me. It was brief, but it was enough to leave me curious. And wanting.

I'd been brought up humbly. My parents were both Muggles. It was a great surprise when my magical abilities had been discovered. I'd always wondered why I could make the fruit in our basket levitate, or how I could always manage to summon a cookie before dinnertime, no matter how much mum protested. They were confused at first, of course, my parents. Then a member of the staff of Hogwarts came to speak to them, and they calmed.

I had taken to magic instantly. I devoured my text books before any of the other students, and I was ahead of even the kids who came from a pureblood family. It gave me a sense of pride that only swelled as I continued to excel far above the rest.

It was in my third year that I truly began to understand my fellow House members loathing of non-purebloods, or "Mudbloods", as they called them. I was placed in Slytherin my first year. No one had ever asked me my blood status—maybe they all just assumed both my parents were magical. I learned quickly not to speak of my "unworthy" qualities. Soon it became second nature to me to pretend to be of the purest blood line—I believed it myself most of the time. That feeling of being on top of everyone else, of bursting through that glass ceiling…it was simply intoxicating. I needed it. I threw away my Muggle heritage. I bared my summers at home, but never enjoyed them. I distanced myself from my parents, only to become closer to my Slytherin cohorts. Maybe close is not the right word; can you ever truly trust another Slytherin? My conclusion is that you cannot, but you can keep vague hope.

As soon as I graduated, I lost contact with my parents. I left the house immediately. My contacts consisted of my friends from Slytherin, those who had also longed to get ahead in life, and my neighbors. My home was a cramped, dingy, and dark apartment. It was enough for me, but it wasn't anything special. I strived for more.

The day I met him was many, many years later. I was walking in Diagon Alley, searching for the perfect set of emerald dress robes for a fancy party my friend was having. Many of the shops were boarded up, and shards of glass littered the street and glittered like tiny diamonds. Dust had settled in the windows of stores, as if they had always been inhabitants of the shopping center's streets. It sent a chill through my body. I knew well what was happening. After all, most of my friends were Death Eaters, or at the very least, supporters of Voldemort. I was torn. Technically, I was Muggle-born myself. But I had abandoned it; did that have any bearing on how I would be treated if I was found out?

Somewhere along the line, I had met a man who worked at the Ministry. Before the Ministry fell to the Death Eaters, he was able to basically erase me from the records. I technically did not exist—I was free to call myself a pureblood, if I wanted. He had also altered his records, because he felt bad things were about to happen. He was right.  
There were very few shops still open, so it was a miracle that I'd stumbled upon a pair of vibrant green robes in the first shop I stopped at. They had to be taken up just an inch or so, but otherwise they were perfect. While I waited, I sifted through a sale rack, but nothing was good enough for me to add to my order. Besides, I was on a budget.

When my robes were ready, I went back out into the streets. Some time had passed, and more people were walking about. I smiled down at the bag in my hands. I'd look wonderful in the dress robes. Anne's party would be simply extravagant, and I wanted to look the part.

Snatchers were not uncommon in the shopping districts. They usually traveled in groups, ever on the look-out for dissenters and Mudbloods. Though I hung out with the highest caliber of dark wizards, I still feared they'd find out about my true blood status. My heart always quickened at the sight of them.

In the group that approached, I could recognize only one: Fenrir Greyback, the vicious werewolf. I didn't expect him to attack in broad daylight, yet chills ran down my spine. The others finished off the rag tag group. They wore mostly dirty, ripped clothing. They looked grimy. There was one, however, that stood out to me most. He had hair that was slowly turning towards dreadlocks. There was a strip of red randomly streaked in the hair. He had a handsome face and kohl lined his eyes. Though snatchers were known to be quite dim, there seemed to be a flicker of intelligence and wit in his blue eyes. His clothing was mismatched, like the character The Mad Hatter from Alice in Wonderland—a story my mother had read to me as a child. He had plaid pants, a suit coat jacket, and scarves. It should have been a comical sight; instead, I found it charming, even alluring. He had a confident air about him, and he sauntered over to me.

"Alright, gorgeous? Got yourself some new clothes, hm?"

"Yes." I'd answered simply and in a soft tone.

"Why don't you let me buy you a drink, love?"

My heart agreed. I abandoned all sense. A drink with a snatcher? Bad news! The others (including Greyback) left to continue their duty. When the attractive clown of a man led me into the Leaky Cauldron, there was no looking back.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Second chapter! I dedicate this to SmartMione on Twitter. She's one of my favorite Hermione RP accounts on there. She's pretty cool, so go and follow her! I hope you like this chapter!**

I could barely take my eyes off of the Snatcher the entire time we sat in the Leaky Cauldron. He offered to buy me a drink, and my immediately request was a Butterbeer. I was not into alcohol, save for the occasional wine flute or champagne. I only indulged on special occasions. More importantly, I did not care to consume any substance that would cloud my judgment while in the presence of a Snatcher. Who knew what would tumble carelessly from my lips if I had tipped back a couple of the Leaky Cauldron's signature ales?

There was a surprisingly small amount of people in the bar—or maybe it was not as bewildering as I thought at first. Most of Diagon Alley was closed, abandoned, desolate, and destroyed. People dared not venture out for too long, lest they be hunted down by Snatchers or harassed (ah the irony! I had allowed hormones to drown out my sense! I was sharing a drink with the very threat! If he only knew that I should have been on his list!). We were living in unstable times. It had been very foolish of me to follow this man into the Leaky Cauldron. I should have shaken my head, declined politely, and went back to my business. But perhaps that would have marked me as suspicious…

"Sure you don't want something a little stronger, love?" His words tore me from my over-analytical thoughts. He gestured to his mug of golden ale, and I shook my head.

"No thanks. I'm not a big consumer of spirits. I prefer classic Butterbeer."

"With just a sprinkle of ginger," he noted, and smirked. It was enough to make any woman swoon. "So what's your name, beauty?"

"Mara. And yours?" I took a sip from my mug of Butterbeer, and before he responded, he chuckled. "Yes?"

He leaned across the table. I tensed up, my body going rigid in the chair. I set the mug down—a very mechanical and stiff motion. He stopped, a smile on his face that suggested he was teasing me.

"Easy, Mara, love. You've got a little something…right…" He cupped my face with one hand, and with the other, quickly swiped away a bit of foam with his index finger. "'ere." As soon as he sat back in his normal position (relaxed, but with an elegant flare—there was a confidence about the way he sat back in the chair), I felt myself loosen up. I even managed a small smile of gratitude.

"I'm Nicholas Scabior." He examined his index finger, still coated in the foam that had once sat on my upper lip. "Snatcher. So you better be'ave." He placed his index finger in his mouth, taking in the Butterbeer foam topping, his eyes fixed on mine, a playful glimmer in them.

"I wouldn't dare do otherwise," I replied, playing along with his little game. For some reason, he was affecting me more than anyone else had.

"What did you buy in that little clothing shop?" His eyes darted down to the bag at my feet.

"Oh, just a new set of dress robes. My friend Anne is having a party tomorrow."

"Such are the problems of society's upper class: finding new dress robes." It didn't sound like a jab directly at me in particular, but it did not sit with me well.

"I'm not upper class by any means, Mr. Scabior." I shook my head, prepared to continue my defense. Instead of stating my innocence, he pointed his finger at me—the same one he had used to wipe away the remnants of Butterbeer foam.

"Nicholas or Nick, if you don't mind. I think we're past formalities."

"I don't have much money for tossing about on fancy clothing. However, this event is very important to my friend, and I had saved up enough to splurge. This was a very rare treat, Nicholas. I assure you I don't approve of needless spending."

"Didn't mean to offend you. Very important event…specifics?"

"She wanted to keep it a surprise." I shrugged. "She made it sound like a significant event, so I wanted to find a nice pair of emerald robes…"

"Emerald. That would look charming on you. Does that color mean anything?"

"Yes, actually. I was in Slytherin. House pride transcends long after school finishes." I smiled.

"I was a Slytherin as well. I never saw you, though."

"You must have been a couple years older, then."

"Must 'ave."

After a second round of drinks, Scabior and I had exchanged a few facts about ourselves. Most of mine were forged, simple little facts I had come up with to fake my identity.

"So what 'appens after this?" He asked. Instead of sitting casually in his chair, he was now leaning towards me, his elbows propped on the table and his chin resting on folded hands that were smudged with dirt and grime.

"What happens? I go home and get some rest." I laughed, confused at what he had meant.

"Is that what you want?" His eyes were probing mine, and I looked down at the table.

"I think that's my only option."

"Oh, there are always other options. For instance, Greyback, well, 'e likes to keep up the 'unt well into the night. Not me. I like the chase too, but I like it when I've 'ad enough sleep. I 'ave a room upstairs for the week while I'm doing my business. See?" He sat back in the wooden chair once again and clapped his hands in satisfaction. "There's your second option."

"Stay…with you?"

"Stay the night. By the look of it, the weather is going to get nasty."

"Couldn't I just apparate?" I asked the obvious.

"Of course you could, love. But where would the fun be in that?"

My breath caught in my throat. Anne did live fairly close, and it would have almost been easier to simply travel to her home by foot than to apparate or use the Floo Network…but no! He was a _Snatcher!_

_ But he's an incredibly attractive Snatcher…_

I looked anxiously around the bar, trying to buy myself some time. I took a sip of Butterbeer, the last little bit in the mug. That only reminded me of the way his finger had grazed my lips.

"Tick tock, Mara. I need to rejoin the group in a few moments," He was twisting the red lock of hair in between his fingers while carefully examining me.

"I need to finish my shopping…I can meet you back here."

"That sounds perfect. Meet me back here at around seven or eight? Per'aps we could 'ave a quick meal."

"Sure. Good luck with your job," I smiled tentatively, and he bowed to me and sauntered off.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hey everybody. I'm just updating this chapter with an author's note…I haven't been able to dedicate much time to this story, as much as I want to. I've been focusing on my Sirius fic, but when that ends, hopefully I'll be able to continue this. This will only be around 7 chapters, at least that's what I'm expecting. **

** For now, this story is officially on hiatus. I have to other stories in the works that I'm more passionate about, plus the Sirius one. Once AP testing is done I'll have time in four of my classes to write if I want, so hopefully I can work on it then! Thanks for reading/reviewing. It means a lot!**

I woke up at six in the morning, earlier than I normally preferred. Once my eyes became adjusted to the dark room, I was suddenly aware why I had woken up at such a young hour: I was in a dingy room above the Leaky Cauldron, and next to me on the bed was the well-known Snatcher named Nicholas Scabior. He was still sleeping peacefully. I felt as though I had stopped breathing. Slowly, I eased into a sitting position. I tried not to stir him.

It was so black in the room. I desperately wanted to open the shades to allow light to filter in, but I feared that I would wake him up.

I could not believe what had happened last night.

I shook my head, trying to relieve myself of the last bit of sleepiness that was trying to weigh my eyelids down. I had to get out of here…

I couldn't pretend that I didn't know what I'd done last night. I couldn't decide if I regretted it or not.

I breathed in and out. Inhale, exhale. It was a one night stand—nothing more.

I searched around the wooden floor for my clothing. When I found my jeans, I instinctively checked the pockets to make sure none of my money had been taken. Every last sickle was intact.

I quickly dressed. As I popped my head through the hole in my shirt, I heard a low groan from behind me.

"Going so soon, sweet'eart?"

"I have to prepare for the party," I fibbed.

"Unless the party is at eight in the morning, I'm not buying that, love."

I finished dressing and turned to face him. I felt dirty and cleansed. I'd never done something like this before, so it felt good to let go. It felt _really _good. Yet what did I really know about Nicholas?

As I looked into his sleepy, hooded eyes, I tried to list all the know things about him:

His name is Nick Scabior.

He is a Snatcher

He is incredibly attractive

"I guess I'm just wondering where my mind was last night."

I walked into the bathroom and washed my face. The cold water shocked me. I looked into the mirror. I had mascara smudged around my eyes—a further reminder that I'd given in to desire last night. My straw blonde hair was messy, nearly on the verge of look like Scabior's. I tried to rub off the black spots from under my eyes, but it would not come off. I reached for a washcloth, complimentary of the Leaky Cauldron. I wetted it slightly and tried to clean up. When I glanced back up into the mirror, he was standing behind me, now fully clothed.

"Why are you in such a rush? I thought we 'ad a good time."

"I did…but-"

"But what? Isn't that what matters?"

"I barely know you." I pointed out, dropping the cloth onto the counter top.

"That didn't stop you." I rolled my eyes. I didn't know whether I should slap him, or myself. "So get to know me." He suggested, and I could see he truly meant it. For some reason, he wanted to be with me, or at least figure me out. My guard was up, but shaking. It was hard to say no to his blue-grey eyes.

It was a one night stand for me, but evidently not the same for him.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Long time no update, right? Sorry about that! I hope you like this chapter. I had some help with this one, concerning names! Thanks to Jess and Veronica! Check out Veronica's fics, by the way: bellatrixcrucioyou. She has some great stuff!**

**Also thanks to Kennedy, who got a special feature here. She's a WONDERFUL Hermione RPer on Twitter (LumosMione). She's always read this series, and she's waited a while, haha!**

**Please review!**

Scabior had to resume his job at around nine that morning. We'd shared a quick breakfast, which only made me more suspicious of him. Why did he even care? He was a snatcher, which meant his main goal in life was to collect more and more gold. I wonder if he knew that I was living behind a façade. How much would _my_ blood be worth to him and his boss?

I went home promptly following the meal. I needed to get ready for the party at Anne's.

If there was ever a time to mentally prepare myself, it was now. Tonight's party would be the ultimate test of my acting skills. I had gotten quite good at this little game having been in Slytherin, but word on the street was that there were going to be quite a few "important" guests attending. That translated to danger for me.

At the entrance hall of my flat, I opened my mailbox. It was strictly for Muggle mail, which was mostly rubbish—at least 99% of the time it was. Today was a little bit of a different story. There was a letter from mum.

I sighed. I wasn't even going to bother opening it. I hadn't opened and read a single one for years.

I tossed it into the fire once I got into my apartment. After all, part of being convincing about being a pureblood was believing it yourself.

…..

I was wearing the new set of dress robes as I approached the wrought iron gates of Anne's house. Not a house. It was nearly a castle. It made my flat look like a deteriorating cardboard box on the sidewalk.

There was a guard at the gate holding a crisp piece of parchment.

"Name?"

"Mara."

"Come in, Miss Mara. They are waiting for you."

I hoped they weren't waiting too long, but a glance at my elegant watch (which could have been mistaken for a bracelet, it was so delicate) said I was right on time.

The house was filled with lush tapestries and gilded chandeliers. Everything about the house said luxury. I felt a bit intimidated by the extravagance, but found small comfort that I was at least dressed for the role. My robes were fancier than anything I'd ever owned, and would surely draw the attention of every guest. I had had to save much of my paycheck for them over the past months.

"Ah, Mara. Darling, it is fabulous to see you. At last, we are reunited."

"It's only been a month, Anne." I smiled at her as I shrugged out of my black coat, and her scrawny house elf clamored to take it from me.

"Still, we've missed you." I assumed she was referring to herself and her husband, Cepheus. "Come, sit. You remember Melvin Todsworth? And of course, his daughter Kennedy? She was only two years behind us at Hogwarts. A very promising Slytherin, she was. And she has certainly proven herself worthy of a seat here tonight."

Kennedy smiled timidly at me. It seemed this was her first formal social gathering, although her dad was quite seasoned with these events. She still looked as youthful as she had at school. She still had those innocent eyes and long eyelashes that had attracted many a student. It was hard to forget the time the highly sought after Slytherin seventh year named Frank had asked her out to Hogsmeade. Rumor had it that they had quite the time…but Kennedy didn't kiss and tell.

"Hello Kennedy. I'm Mara."

She nodded and looked down at her hands. Something seemed to be troubling her, yet her father looked just fine. Completely at ease. It was then that I saw the outline of what looked to be a tattoo underneath her sweater. A chill spread throughout my body, and I felt my hands go clammy. Oh no.

I sat in the spot they had designated for me. There were little name cards set around the table. I surreptitiously leaned over, pretending to be adjusting my chair. The handsome man next to me was named Bode, but I could not read his surname. There was a regal woman on the other side of me, a Scarlett Gemini. She had slicked back red hair. She was appropriately named.

"Well, now that we are all here, let's get started." Anne was standing behind the chair that was at the head of the table. Her fingers were clenched around the top, which was carved exquisitely into a forest scene. There were intertwining vines, snakes, and trees. She turned away, and her charming voice turned ice cold and cruel, "Flippy, bring out the wine! Toby, the meal!" She barked. Two little house elves went scattering towards the kitchen, fear in their wide, bulbous eyes. "I must admit, this is not just a friendly get-together." She sat down and spread a napkin across her lap. "As you all know, the Dark Lord is doing incredibly things at the Ministry. Things we could have only dreamed about not a year ago. Yet, he still needs supporters. We are all sympathetic to his aims, I do believe. If you were not, you would not be here tonight. Most of you have already joined the ranks," she simpered at Kennedy, whose eyes were resolutely on the burning candle before her. "But yet, others have not." Her eyes now fell on me, and I made sure to look her in the eyes in return, so she would not become too suspicious. "And why not? You are all worthy. You are all of the highest blood status. The greatest caliber of wizards and witches. You'd surely be rewarded. Cepheus and I have given much to the cause. And we are certain we will be given accolades back ten-fold."

She continued to talk, but my attention was drawn to Cepheus, an employee at the Ministry. His eyes were glazed over, and he was not even looking at his spouse. Normally, Cepheus would be the one talking. He was authoritative, but normally kind. It was unusual to see him so quiet.

"My husband," she gestured to Cepheus, "was recently promoted at the Ministry. The first of our rewards from the Dark Lord. We are very proud."

Cepheus gave a vague, half-hearted nod. Anne's smile, self-satisfied, struck me as odd. If Cepheus was acting so uncharacteristic, and almost sick.

It was when she continued speaking that it hit me. The way he responded to her with small movements, his glazed eyes…she had him under the Imperius curse. I wondered if Cepheus had been resistant. Is this the only way he would join Anne in Voldemort's campaign? Perhaps Voldemort himself had needed more pawns in the Ministry, and Cepheus, a well-respected official, would have been the perfect choice.

I had no idea what I was going to do now. I could feel Anne swoop down on me like a vulture, with her expectations high. It seemed any minute now she would ask me to get branded with the Dark Mark, as it appeared Kennedy had (no matter how much she seemed to regret it).

I would be lucky to get out of this dinner without my cover blown.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Been writing A LOT lately! I've done at least seven chapters between the three stories I have that are currently active! I wanted to update this one again before life gets crazy. I'm starting college soon, about to get my license (hopefully), and I have a job interview tomorrow. Life's getting real. I hope I can still keep up with my writing! **

**Please review!**

The dinner left a bitter taste in my mouth. Not from the food, or from the wine. It was what was happening before my very eyes. Kennedy, a Death Eater! No doubt it had been a product of her father's wishes.

I don't know why the thought bothered me so much. After all, many of my friends had turned out to be Death Eaters. I was one of the few who was not.

Perhaps it was because Kennedy had seemed so innocent in school, just another girl pining after Frank. The image of that hideous mark upon her arm had my stomach churning.

Besides that new development, there had been other alarming things about the dinner. For one, Cepheus was almost certainly being controlled by his wife's Imperius curse. Also, Anne was dead-set on recruiting new Death Eaters. I'd barely skated by last night, otherwise I'm certain she would have tried to swear me in on the spot.

I arrived at my flat to a note on my kitchen table. The messy scrawl and faint scent of firewhiskey alerted me that it was from Scabior. This only reminded me of the sin I'd given into…yet the guilt had worn away. I felt oddly satisfied that I'd let go and given into instinct and passion.

I was not looking forward to the morning. I would have to face my biggest humiliation—that all I had amounted to was a bookseller in Knockturn Alley. It was not the lucrative or impressive profession that Slytherins hoped to attain. It shamed me. All my ambition had failed me. It only had me questioning who I was even further.

…..

Morning came faster than I would have liked. I got ready quickly, downing a simple breakfast and doing minimal primping. When you worked in Knockturn Alley, even with no makeup and wrinkled clothing, you were still the most presentable one there.

I always opened the shop. It was lonely for a couple hours, although sometimes that was nice.

We'd received a few boxes of new books to be put on display. The subjects were either gruesome enough to make me look away or so dark that I feared the motivations of the people who would purchase them. Most authors who wrote these books used pseudonyms to prevent the authorities from coming after them—although these days I don't think the "authorities" would care much. In fact, I think they would encourage the sales of these books.

I spent about thirty minutes unboxing books. Some were bound in dragon hide; I didn't dare look at the price tag. Those were the heaviest of them all, and the ones I needed to be most careful with. After all, if you're going to be paying top-dollar for a book, you'd want the binding to look nice.

I was so preoccupied with setting up the display that I almost didn't hear the 'ding' as the door opened. A customer. Well, this was new. Rarely did someone show up so soon after opening.

"Welcome to Lord Terry's Tomes." I greeted, though I didn't look up from my work. I was so focused on making the display look impeccable that I didn't realize the customer had approached me. I could feel hot breath on my neck, which was not all-together unpleasant. It was cold outside, and it infiltrated the un-heated shop. Still, I shivered

Without turning around, I whispered, "May I help you?"

"Fancy meeting you 'ere, love."

"Scabior," I exhaled, a weak smile forming on my lips. I don't know how I could have expected anyone else to be so bold.

"That's Nicholas to you. Or Nick, whichever you 'appen to prefer."

I abandoned the display and faced him. He was wearing the same clothes as always, although the color of his scarf had changed. It was a pastel orange.

"You have an affinity for accessories, I see." I smirked, outstretching a hand to examine it. I wrapped my fingers around the fringe and tugged playfully.

"A bookshop employee, eh? Not what I expected after the other night…"

"And what _did _you expect?" I asked, suddenly feeling insecure.

"Dunno. Not this. After seeing what you're made of…well, it's like you're a sexy librarian. Kinky."

I felt a blush creep up my neck, and I went back to taking out books from their boxes.

"You think so?"

"Confidence, love." He was leaning against the front desk, one gloved hand pointed towards me.

He was right. I _did _need to work on my confidence, especially if I wanted to keep my act up.

I realized that that was what made Nicholas Scabior so attractive, despite what might have turned others off: confidence. He walked with swagger. He always sauntered. He carried himself _confidently_. Sometimes it might border on arrogance, but that was part of his charm.

"Meanwhile, we've caught a couple runaways just outside of town. 'Eavyset, middle-aged man and 'is daughter, I presume. Mudbloods. Sent them straight off to the Ministry." He fiddled with the rings on his fingers as he said this, as if it had no consequence at all. "But you don't want to 'ear about that, I'm supposing. Probably wondering as much as I am about when we'll next get to go out."

It caught me off guard, but he was not too far off-base.

"Is that a proposal?" I asked, tearing my eyes away from him for a moment to smile at the figures that had just entered the shop.

"Only if you're agreeing. Tonight?"

"Sure. Where?"

"Meet me by Gringott's. Seven o'clock. Easy enough to find, I think." He stood up straight now, approaching me with that signature walk. He leaned in, and I felt a sense of déjà vu. It was exactly how we had first encountered each other today, his mouth dangerously close to my ear. "And wear something pretty, love." He pulled away slowly, but not before his lips grazed mine, teasing me. I knew he could tell that my heart was beating embarrassingly fast, because when he turned to go, he winked at me, his lips still slightly parted. My heart filled with longing, lust. He knew exactly what he was doing to me. And he found it amusing.

The other people who had entered the shop were now closer to me than before, and I finally registered who one of them was. Kennedy.

She looked even younger now against the dark landscape. She was wearing a black dress underneath an elegant raspberry colored trench coat, and her Mary Janes gave the impression of youth. She was looking at Scabior with a fearful look in her eyes. It was as if she were paralyzed, for she didn't seem to move a muscle until he opened the door, and the 'ding' reassured her that he was gone. I couldn't recognize the male who was with her; he lurked around the displays in the front of the store, his back turned towards me.

"Are you alright, Ms. Todsworth?" I asked, almost calling her by her informal name. We had rarely spoken at Hogwarts, and I felt that after last night, formality was in order.

"Kennedy." She murmured. "Call me Kennedy." She had her head bowed to the ground, although she occasionally glanced up at me. I was unsure why she was here, since she didn't seem to be looking for books. Her face was pale, and I doubted it was from the lack of sunlight these days. She looked sick, ill. For a moment, she cast her gaze over her shoulder to her male companion. "Find what you wanted?" She asked nervously, looking from me to the man in a paranoid fashion.

A voice that could only be described as sexy answered her: "No, why don't we take our leave? It's not too important."

That voice sounded so familiar, and yet, I could not place it. Kennedy didn't say goodbye, only backed away awkwardly with a slight nod. Something was wrong. I could tell. It didn't make sense that they would come in and then just…leave.

"Goodbye. Come back again some time." The necessary niceties. But really I was just left feeling confused. I watched them with burning curiosity as they left the store and hurried down the street. Despite wanting to know what was going on, it was clear I would not be getting any answers today.


	6. Chapter 6

A month passed by, but the conditions in the wizarding world never brightened. The only thing distracting me from all the doom and gloom was Scabior, who ironically, was the cause of some of said doom and gloom.

We'd gone on plenty of dates, at least while he was in the area. There were many of times when I would be at my flat by myself, eating ice cream and watching pathetic Muggle soap operas on the telly—just missing him. The sad part of it all was that I wasn't sure where we stood. I considered us to be 'going steady', but I didn't know if it constituted a proper relationship. Above all, was it lust or love that fueled the bond?

All these questions rattled around in my head every day. Yet one questions above all nagged at me: what had been wrong with Kennedy?

I hadn't seen her once since our last encounter at the shop, and I wasn't sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing. I still hadn't been able to identify her companion. There were too many answers left untold.

….

The weather fit the appearance of Diagon Alley perfectly. It was drizzly and dark, thunder rolling in the background. In the air was the smell of burnt wood and char, dampened by rain—ashes from the dilapidated buildings that lines the cobbled streets. At times it seemed even Knockturn Alley was cheerier, which was saying something indeed. Diagon Alley was a mere ghost of its old self—a black and white silhouette, with no expression or heart, simply an outline, empty and cold.

I opened the shop as usual, flicking my wand at the blinds to open them. Not that it did the shop any good; it still remained as dark as before. There wasn't any stocking to do or displays to make today, so I decided to do some general tidying up. Mornings were slow, although Scabior took a liking to visiting me those hours…He enjoyed the privacy, and also the danger of being caught. I got that familiar rush as well—pure adrenaline. It made it more exciting, but still, I wasn't too keen on a customer walking in to find a Snatcher with his tongue down my throat—no matter how good it might feel.

The book cases had been neglected in recent weeks. There had been so many popular releases that the front of the store was getting the most care. The shelves were coated in dust. I attacked it with a rag, determined to make the place more presentable. I could have done it with magic, but I need something to occupy myself. I was halfway through the Non-fiction: Potions section when the front door went 'ding'. I peered over, expecting (and maybe hoping) to see Scabior saunter in. He was the only one who ever showed up this early. But it wasn't Scabior. In fact, it was someone who I had least expected to show up.

It was Kennedy.

…

I dropped the rag and emerged from the back of the shop. She seemed to be looking for me.

I tried to keep my voice calm, but I felt there was still a hint of nerves: "Kennedy! Good morning. Something I can help you find?"

She jumped at the sound of my voice, but didn't respond to the question. She approached me quickly. It was then that I saw a man behind her. It had to be the same mysterious man as before; they wore the same coat and appeared to be the same build and height. She looked like she was unsure how to proceed.

"We need to talk."

Her tone made me instantly concerned. There was an urgency in her words.

"Will it take a while? I have some work I need to finish up before my boss gets in for his shift…" I glanced back towards the spot where I had discarded my rag.

"Mara—forget that. This is important." Her voice had gained confidence, and she reached a hand out and touched my arm. I turned my gaze to her.

"Oh. Okay. Well…let me change the sign then," I flicked my wand towards the front of the store, and the 'Open' sign turned around and read 'Closed'. "What is it?"

"You're in danger." She breathed, her forehead creased and her lips parted. I realized now that she was out of breath. Had she been running?

"Danger?" I repeated. Kennedy nodded, a frantic, sporadic movement. "What's going on?"

"Your friend at the Ministry…Rafe Colizer?" She continued when she saw the name register with me. My eyes fell to the floor. Ice spread throughout my abdomen. I felt like I was going to puke. "They've been interrogating people, you see. And it was Rafe's time. Tortured him. Badly. I only know because my father told me. He was one of the people to oversee the process. When he didn't crack, they administered Veritaserum, just in case he was hiding something. " She sighed and looked at me. Her gaze was strong, and I knew that no matter how long I stared at the dingy carpet, I wouldn't be able to escape it. "You and I both know what he was keeping secret."

"Yes."

"They know, Mara. They've sent Snatchers after you. You're being hunted."

The chill spread throughout my body, and fear struck me square in the chest. I felt like I would pass out, but I needed answers.

"And Rafe?"

"Dead."

There was silence, but only for a moment. Only until I found the strength to speak again.

"Why tell me, Kennedy? You're one of them, aren't you? Got that cute little tattoo on your arm, yeah?" Sarcasm. My defense tactic.

I noticed after I said it that Kennedy still looked as sick and weak as she had a month earlier.

"My father forced me. You don't understand what it's like to grow up with someone like that. I'm revolted…"

"But you agree with their principles?"

"Obviously not. I'm coming to warn you, aren't I? I'm trying to sabotage one of my father's plans! Isn't that enough to convince you?"

"I just…"

"Can't imagine me rebelling against my father, the bigot? Understandable after the things he's done. But I'm not like him. I'm here to propose a plan of action."

"Who's your bodyguard?" I asked, nodding to the male figure that lurked among the shelves.

She turned around to find him. "Hey, come here for a second."

The man that emerged was the last person I had expected. It was Frank, just as gorgeous as he had been in school. Once he was at Kennedy's side, he laced his fingers with hers and squeezed firmly. A smile tugged at her lips, but it seemed she realized the gravity of the situation, and the terror won out.

"You remember Frank?"

"Of course. Why is he here?"

"Would you like to tell her, Frankie?" She asked, looking up at him with her eyebrows pulled together.

"My family was murdered. My mum. My father. My sister, Genie. For not complying with new protocol at the Ministry. I was out of the house at the time. I've got nothing left, but I know they're after me."

"I read about it in the paper," Kennedy whispered, rubbing her thumb against the skin of Frank's hand. "I knew I had to find him before _they_ did."

It seemed the fling they'd had had turned into something more. They were brought together by war and strife.

"What do you propose we do then?" I questioned, feeling overwhelmed. What other choice did I have? I could tell they were saying the truth.

"Go into hiding. Together. The three of us will be able to survive better as a collective unit. It's okay to admit it, Mara. You're brilliant, despite where you work. I'm pretty damn cunning and downright sneaky when I want to be, and Frank's brilliant with wandwork and spells. Together we'd get by. At least for a while."

I thought of Scabior, but only for a brief moment. No matter how much I missed him and cared for him, my life was at stake. That was more important.

"I'm in. I'll get some things from my flat—"

"No. That's the first place they'll look," Frank shook his head. "We'll figure something else out. But let's move…quick. This will be the next likely place to find you."

They exited the shop before me. I knew we didn't have long, but I stalled. I outstretched my wand in front of me.

I took one last look at the dusty, moldy shop. Suddenly I felt like I had taken everything for granted. When I was sleeping on a rocky ground, I'd surely miss this place. But this had to happen at some point—the truth always has a way of coming out.

I waved my wand, watching every light quickly extinguish.

Kennedy and Frank were walking close to each other, their hands still connected, which now meant more than ever before. It was like their lifeline. I suddenly felt alone. Despite having two partners with me on this flight, I felt like a solitary traveler.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Sooo….this chapter. It gets suggestive. But I still stick by the T rating. Also, I am horrid at writing like this. Please forgive me. Also, I think the next chapter will be the last! I only planned on this story being 3 chapters originally, so it has already lasted longer than intended. Hope you enjoy it all the same!**

His touch was electric, and I was helpless. Addicted. I was unaware of anything but his hands. Not the bookshelves that surrounded us, or the posters of authors that were old and decrepit—things I always noticed and tended to on any normal day. But now, there was nothing but his hands that explored areas that made my head light. I should have been used to this by now. After all, it seemed to be Nicholas' favorite past time…but it had been taken to another level. The bookstore brought on a renewed sense of danger. It was already risky to be screwing a Snatcher, but at work? It was scandalous. Scabior truly did bring out the devil in me.

He laughed, deep and throaty. "Like that do you, sweet'eart?" He pressed his lips to my bare collarbone, sending shivers down my spine.

"Sh-shut up," I murmured, not meaning it in the slightest. I just could not form a more coherent sentence.

"Now, now. You don't mean that love." His lips made contact with my jawbone, and then traveled down. I could tell he savored every shiver I gave, or any tiny sound made involuntarily. He relished in it. A kiss on my jugular. I took his head in my hands and kissed him without reservation. All the walls I had put up that were shaking so precariously crumbled to the ground, and I knew this was surrender. My lips moved against his hurriedly, greedily. It was as if I needed him to merely exist. He flicked his wand towards the door, an afterthought. I barely heard the 'click' of the lock as he began to disrobe; my heart was beating at an alarming rate, and I was beginning to feel impatient. I reached for his jacket and helped him shrug out of it. I unbuttoned his shirt, growling in exasperation when the fasteners decided to be stubborn. Just as I was ready, letting go, obstacles were thrown in the way.

"Mara." The way he said my voice, a soft and adoring purr, made me go mad. "There's no 'urry love." But I could see in his eyes that he was amused by my desire. But he wanted it just as much, and he continued helping me.

Finally, there were no barriers left. Nothing to stop us. Nothing. There was a moment where our eyes locked on each other, almost shy. But that would soon be lost to untamable passion…

"Mara? Mara?"

Someone shook me, and my eyes opened wide in shock.

"Are you alright?" It was Kennedy. Frank was still sleeping, but she was preparing a modest breakfast for us all. "Heard you moaning in your sleep. Feeling alright?"

A blush crept up my neck. She'd heard me…but she thought I was ill.

"Fine. Thanks."

"I'm going to keep making breakfast. Fetch me if you need me."

I got into a sitting position and stared at the ground. It had felt so real. For the span of the dream, I swore he'd been there with me. It was more than a dream—it was a memory.

Suddenly my heart ached. We'd been on the run for a week, and I missed Nicholas Scabior more than I'd imagined. I hadn't realized how much his touch fulfilled me, or how whispered words in my ear made me feel confident and assured of everything. I felt more alone than ever.

I brought my knees up to my chin and hugged my legs. How much longer would it be before I would see him?

But that was a foolish thing to ponder. Surely if I did see him, it would mean we'd been caught.

Kennedy brought me a bit of breakfast.

"Sorry it's not much. I found some berries, and I brought a loaf of bread. I suppose it'll have to do." The berries were mashed into a paste and spread across the toast in a thin layer. "It's not half bad, actually." She paused and watched me take a bite; she looked nervous.

"It's good!" It was better than anything we'd had so far. We'd been nowhere near town, but we were getting there. Surely there's be more opportunities there.

"I-I brought some money. Before I stopped in to get you, I took a side trip to Gringott's. I loaded up. So when we get somewhere, I can pick some things up for us. It'll have to be me, I'm afraid. You're the one they're really after, after all. And Frank…" She looked over at his stirring form with a look of such deep affection, I felt the need to glance away. The way she looked at him and said his name caused the empty loneliness to resurge. "Well, he can't exactly go out there. He's got a price on his head as well." Frank tossed and turned a bit, and then a groan, muffle by blankets, because audible.

"What time is it?" He slurred as he stretched and sat upright.

"9 in the morning, sweetie." She smiled at him as he tried to shake the sleep away. They were cute together. I wondered if they had always had a little something going on ever since their tryst in Hogsmeade, or if this was just a happy coincidence. Either way, I was happy for them.

"Are you okay, Mara? You look sad."

"Oh…I'm just feeling sad. Having to leave everything behind."

"But you didn't leave anything behind. No parents, lousy job…" Frank spoke.

"Frank," Kennedy chided softly. "The job wasn't lousy. At least she had one. Most people aren't lucky enough to have one these days with the state Diagon Alley is in. Mara, I know many of your…_friends_…looked down upon your job. They didn't think it was a proper reflection upon Slytherin house, my father included. But I think you're just fine anyways. It has nothing to do with the person you are."

"The person I _am? _I don't even know who I am, Kennedy. I've been lying ever since I turned eleven! Frank says I didn't have parents to leave behind. Guess what? I did. I just never spoke with them. But they're out there. And mum? She tries to contact me regularly. I just don't respond. I was beginning to believe the lie myself. But this has really kicked me in the ass."

"But you're better than them! At least you don't have this goddamn mark on your arm!" Kennedy was nearly in tears, her arm extended to present the hideous tattoo to me. "I feel sick, tainted! I can't get rid of it ever! You're better than _this_."

"Kennedy…" I sighed. "You're better than that too. You were coerced by your own father. You're no Death Eater, no matter how much he might fantasize you to be. You've run away from that. That says something."

I reached out to Kennedy and embraced her. I tried to make her feel comforted, but it was hard considering how unstable I was at the moment.

"So…what's on the agenda for the day?" Frank asked when we broke apart, quickly taking my spot and putting his arm around Kennedy's waist protectively.

"Oh, you know, sit around and hope no one finds us…" Kennedy said, rolling her eyes.

"Sounds like a blast." I chuckled, though it was half-hearted and hollow-sounding.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Final chapter! Sorry for the delay in between updates. I just started college. It's been an adjustment! **

**Thank you all for your amazing support since the beginning of this story. Your reviews and comments have made my day countless times. Hope you enjoy, and please review!**

I woke the next morning to find the fire we were huddling around had died out. It was then that I began to fall into convulsive shivers. I was so foolish to think such a big lie could be hidden for this long. I was paying the price for my dishonesty now.

Kennedy and Frank were still asleep, though their breathing sounded labored from the harsh temperatures. They were huddled together under a blanket, arms wrapped tightly around one another. I felt a pang of jealousy.

The only man I wanted that with was now my worst enemy, essentially.

I pointed my wand at the little fire pit we'd fashioned, flicked it, and sparks burst forth. When they came into contact with the twigs and leaves we'd scrounged up, the fire began to grow into a moderate source of heat.

I spread out my fingers and placed my hands above the flames, immediately reaping the benefits of the little fire.

Kennedy stirred, a sound which would have been almost impossible to hear, had we not been in a deserted area. I whipped around and sighed when I saw she had merely shifted a few inches. No one to talk to, yet.

As much as I was trying to resist it, I could feel my breathing becoming uneven, and my eyes prickled. I hadn't cried in a while, but it seemed like my streak would be ending now.

I was suddenly glad that they were not awake. I wouldn't have wanted them to see me like this, not when they almost looked to me as their leader. The only difference between us was a year or two, nothing more. I was just as vulnerable, just as guilty…

I rummaged through my bag and pulled out the latest edition of the Prophet. Kennedy had nicked it out of a rubbish bin when she was out getting us the day's meal.

The best hope I got from it was that they were on the lookout for countless other runaways. Perhaps they'd find them first, and we'd have a chance to dash away. That was our best hope.

The forest was too quiet for my taste. Maybe it should have calmed me, but it only put me on edge. I longed for peaceful sleep, like Kennedy and Frank seemed to be having. But my slumber was always plagued by nasty, violent dreams. And my rest was always cut short.

I didn't even want to think of what I must look like. No showering for days, wearing the same clothes day after day…I could feel that my hair was matted, and my face was dry as paper. And my lips! They were chapped so severely that anything I ate or drank stung like vinegar on an open wound.

There seemed to be no chance of ever going back to life as we'd known it. All of our charades…they were over now. Would we have to live out the rest of our lives together, a small clan of misfits? Would we even survive another week?

"Mmm…Mara?"

It was Frank. I looked over my shoulder, feeling the wind's full sting on my face now that I was turned away from the heat source.

"Yeah, Frank?"

"You alright? I thought I heard some sniffling? You sick?"

"No, thanks. Just…just a bit upset, I suppose. You go back to sleep."

"I don't think I could if I tried." He made to stand up, being as careful as he could not to wake Kennedy. He tucked her in snuggly before sitting next to me. "Anything interesting in there?" He nodded towards The Daily Prophet in my hands.

"It just mentions some changes that have come to Hogwarts. Oh, and a few others have gone into hiding."

"Wonder if we'll ever happen across another band of runaways. We could have a big party." He mumbled bitterly. "Nothing else, then?"

"Nope, not really. Just the usual propaganda bollocks. Did you expect anything else?"

"Not really, no. Thanks for building up the fire again. I was starting to have dreams…bad dreams. I think the cold was affecting me."

"I know what you mean," I nodded. "We need some more firewood, why don't I go fetch us some?"

"Yeah, alright. Just be careful."

"Always am." I uncrossed my legs and rose off the freezing ground.

The firewood excuse was my favorite. I used it often, probably a little too much. I just liked to get away, to have some time to myself. I was so used to being my own company. I lived on my own, worked in the shop for hours on end, just me. Being stuck with two other people (no matter how much I liked them or found them agreeable) was not something I could easily get used to. 'Going to get firewood'...

Of course, I _was_ going to bring some back. We needed some desperately, and I wasn't going to be an arse and just dash off for a bit without having anything to show for it.

I picked up spare twigs here and there, letting my mind wander. I tried to think of nothing but the process of sorting through the wood. It was therapeutic, in a way. I twirled a thin twig in between my fingers, my lips twitching upwards, just a tad. Silly how such simple things made me smile these days. But there were rarely times where the three of us would share a laugh, or have news that was worthy of smiles. Any simple joy was welcomed.

With an armful of wood varying in size, I retraced my footprints back to our modest camp. The fire was still burning; I could smell it from where I was. I could almost feel the warmth; it was what kept me walking towards it, no matter how stiff or frozen my feet felt.

"I have the firewood, Frank," I called when I was mere meters away. There was silence. Eerie silence. "Frank? Kennedy?"

When I stepped out from the brush, my breath caught in my throat. The wood toppled out of my arms to the snowy ground, and my gloved hands covered my mouth. I was gasping, choking and crying and trying to breathe. Hot tears streamed down my cheeks.

"Mara…"

I couldn't tell what emotions lay behind the simple utterance of my name, but his face showed nothing.

I tried to speak, but found no words. In an instant, my world had tumbled down. The one man I'd craved since we ran away…he was here now. In front of me. And yet, it brought me no comfort. Because with him surely came our executions.

Kennedy and Frank were bound and gagged. Their faces showed such pain that I had to look away.

"N-Nick," I stammered, falling to the ground. My legs, after walking so far through such harsh conditions, finally gave way at this shock. Some of the smaller twigs cracked underneath my knees, a deafening sound, it seemed.

The Snatcher ran forward, and kneeled next to me, finally showing some form of emotion: concern.

"Mara, are you alright?"

"What-what've you done to them?"

"They're blood traitors!" He spat. "I 'ave to take 'em in. For a trial. I'm going to get paid loads for the lot of 'em."

"Trial?" I laughed, out of breath. "Don't treat me like I'm an idiot, Nicholas. They'll be killed on the spot."

"But I 'ave to take 'em in. Orders."

"But what about me?" I asked, my voice a little steadier now.

Scabior tilted his head sideways and kissed my neck, his warm lips sending fresh shivers throughout me. He placed both hands on either side of my face, pressed his lips to my forehead.

"Jus' wait 'ere, love. I'll be back. Jus'…jus' wait."

He stood up and sauntered over to Kennedy and Frank, who were now nearly unconscious. "You lot are comin' with me. To the Ministry. Let them 'ave their way with you."

I watched in horror as he grabbed ahold of both of them, gripping the ropes that bound them like leashes, and apparated in front of my eyes.

I tried to move away, to run, but he'd put an enchantment on the area. He'd put me in an invisible prison.

I sunk to the ground in defeat, forced to wait for his return. Who knew what he would do when he came back for me? Would he really just let me go? Or was I, too, going to become a plaything for the Ministry?

….

"Mara…" The voice was distant, urgent. "Mara!"

I was shaken awake. It was odd, and alarming, because I hadn't even realized I'd fallen asleep. I must've passed out.

Then it all came flooding back to me, and I back away from him. Nicholas Scabior was bending over me, reaching his hand out for my face. He looked hurt as I recoiled from his touch.

"Mara, it's okay. I'm not going to 'urt you!"

I closed my eyes. Inhale. Exhale. I opened my eyes.

His eyes, lined with his signature black kohl, were looking straight into mine. "Alright, Mara? You 'ad me scared for a while. Thought you'd frozen to death."

"What do you care?" I murmured, with not nearly as much force as I could have wished.

"I love you, Mara. Might not seem so; I'm gone all the time. But I've missed you. And you ran out on me! 'Ows that for fair?"

"Don't play games, Nick." I coughed, my lungs feeling hollow and icy. "I'm just like them. No different. No, you know what? I'm worse to you, aren't I? I'm just a liar. I'm a Muggleborn, Nick. You must know that."

"It don't matter, Mara. I can get you away. 'Ide you. We can make this work, some'ow."

I swallowed hard, knowing that if I stayed out here any longer, I'd surely lose consciousness again.

"Just take me to the Ministry, Nick."

"No!" He said in protest.

"You took my friends there. Now take me. I'm no different. I need to own up to the lie I've been living." I locked eyes with him and mustered up all the strength I could. "Take me to the Ministry. Now."

"You'll be killed!"

I was shocked by how desperate he sounded, but I couldn't think on that.

"Just like my friends, correct? I'd rather die knowing we all were treated equally than live and have their deaths on my conscience. Go on Nick. Make a couple more galleons off of me."

"No," he spat.

"Fine." I stood, shakily at first but soon finding my balance. "I should have known this never could have ended well…"

It was funny, in a way. An ironic smile formed on my face as my eyes closed. I focused so hard. _The Ministry. The Ministry. _I visualized it, as best as I could remember. Funny, how after all this time of hiding, after concealing myself behind a carefully crafted façade, I would be the one to turn myself in.

Nick Scabior was pleading with me to stay, not to do it. But I couldn't listen.

_The Ministry._

I squeezed my eyes shut, and with a cacophonous 'pop', I apparated. There would be no more running. No more hide and seek. No more nightmares. Just the truth.


End file.
